


Don't Know If You Love Me or You Want Me Dead

by Jennsepticeye



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, I REVEAL THE BABY'S NAME IN THIS FIC, Keldabe Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Near Death Experiences, Planet Hoth (Star Wars), The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28117944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye
Summary: The chin of his helmet clicks against his breastplate and he startles. ‘I’ll get up in just a minute’ he tells himself. He just needs to stand up. Several minutes pass and he still hasn’t moved. His foot twitches and he’s not sure how much time has passed since he called Cara for help. His arm feels far too heavy as he grips the wall behind him. There’s frost gathering on his bracer and visors. Every joint is stiff. Getting upright seems to take hours, and once he straightens up, he blacks out.He comes back to awareness on his back, looking up at Paz’s visor. He feels far away from his body.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Comments: 20
Kudos: 298





	Don't Know If You Love Me or You Want Me Dead

Din hates Hoth more than anything in the universe. It’s too damn cold and hard to manoeuvre and now he’s stuck on this forsaken planet with a man who hates him. The cave they’re trapped in is too small for Paz to stand upright and there’s a draft coming from somewhere. At least they won’t suffocate, but the entrance is covered in a blanket of snow that’s too thick to dig out. They’re effectively trapped in a freezer. Din cusses and digs his comlink out of his pocket.

“Cara. Come in.” He says, praying that the signal can reach out of the thick snow.

“I’m here, Mando.” Her voice crackles with static. “What’s the problem?”

“We’re a bit trapped. We need evac.”

“Define a bit.”

“Avalanche. We’re pretty much buried.”

He hears Cara sigh. “I’m about three hours out. Think you can keep out of trouble for that long?”

Din stifles a frustrated noise. “Yeah. It’s fine. Just keep me updated.” He doesn’t mean to snap, especially at Cara, but his toes and fingers are already going numb. He probably should have heeded Cara’s suggestion to wear a heavier coat. He suppresses a shiver and glares at Paz in his thick body suit and a warm cloak that strains over his pauldrons.

“I may not be able to see your eyes, Djarin, but I can tell when you’re mad at me.” Paz says, arms folded.

“Why did you follow me?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“I was fine on my own. I certainly didn’t need help from you of all people.” Din grumbles.

“I’m sure that’s why you were on your knees with a blaster at your neck, right? Don’t fool yourself.”

“Why do you care? You never liked me, Viszla, not since the moment I arrived at the Covert.” He snaps. “So why are you acting like you care now?”

“Because the Covert is gone!” Paz snarls. “Because everyone we ever loved is dead or missing, and frankly, I’m sick of pretending you’re my enemy.”

Din huffs, suppressing another shiver and crossing his arms tighter. “ _ Jahaatir.  _ I don’t believe you.”

Paz makes an irritated noise, throwing his hands up and brushing the ceiling on accident. “Stars, Din! Fine you stubborn bastard.  _ Ni ceta.  _ I was too hard on you when we were kids, but I never hated you.”

“Fine. Apology accepted. Now we can sit in silence until Cara gets here.” He says, sitting down against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. Din really did underestimate how cold Hoth is, because fifteen minutes later he’s lost feeling in his feet completely and his whole body is shaking. Din just  _ knows  _ Paz is rolling his eyes.

“You’re shivering.” He says.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Din grumbles back, though the effect is ruined by the way his teeth chatter.

Paz sighs and holds open his cloak in invitation. “Come on.”

Din doesn’t move and the other groans irritably. “You’re going to freeze.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Your funeral, Djarin.” Paz says, letting the fabric drop. “Why the hell didn’t you wear layers anyway? It’s Hoth.”

“Didn’t expect to be here so long, which I have you to blame for.”

“You never did listen to Xotara. What was that thing she always said?”

“Dress like you have to walk home.” Din huffs. He stops trying to suppress his shivering and puts his helm on his knees. In just the last half hour he’s lost most of the feeling in his hands and feet, his legs and arms following suit. He pulls the comlink from his pocket again, fingers stiff and clumsy.

“Any updates?” He asks, trying to keep the shaking from his voice.

“Nope. Sorry boys, but you’re a long ways away. Two and a half hours. Stay warm you two.”

Din grumbles and drops the comlink in the snow instead of trying to put it back in his pocket. His joints are stiff and his eyelids feel heavy. Living on a planet like Nevaro for so long means he only has a theoretical understanding of hypothermia. He knows if he falls asleep, he’s dead.

The chin of his helmet clicks against his breastplate and he startles.  _ ‘I’ll get up in just a minute’  _ he tells himself. He just needs to stand up. Several minutes pass and he still hasn’t moved. His foot twitches and he’s not sure how much time has passed since he called Cara for help. His arm feels far too heavy as he grips the wall behind him. There’s frost gathering on his bracer and visors. Every joint is stiff. Getting upright seems to take hours, and once he straightens up, he blacks out.

He comes back to awareness on his back, looking up at Paz’s visor. He feels far away from his body.

“Sith’s blood, Din. You stupid, stubborn bastard.” Paz spits, hauling him up by his pauldrons.

“‘m fine.” Din slurs.

“You’re hypothermic.  _ Gar mirsh solus.” _

Din’s vision black out again and he finds himself stripped of his armor and wrapped in Paz’s cloak. He stopped shivering a good while ago, which is probably a bad sign, but Din can’t focus enough to think it through.

“Hey! Stay awake!” He hears Paz snap, rapping his knuckles on Din’s helm.

“‘m ‘wake.” He mumbles. His mouth won’t cooperate and his tongue is heavy. “Take care of the kid for me, ‘right?”

“What?” Paz says, and Din notices that not only is he wrapped in Paz’s coat, he’s wrapped in Paz’s arms as well, snug in his lap. That’s nice.

“‘f I don’ make it, take care of Grogu. Foundlings ‘re the future. This is th’ way—”

Paz jostles him roughly. “Could you shut up! You’re going to be just fine. Just hold on another thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes? When had so much time passed?

“Can I jus’ say one more thing?” Din mumbles. He doesn’t actually wait for permission, though. “I never hated you either. Woulda been easier ‘f I did. —admired you. I wanted your ‘ttention. Wanted you t’ see me.”

Paz is staring at him, Din can feel it, even as his thoughts turn to smoke in his head.

“What?” Paz says with disbelief.

“C’mere.” He says, and when Paz obeys Din pulls his thoughts and limbs together just enough to knock the crowns of their helmets together. His eyes slip closed, and try as he might, he can’t get them to open again. All of his remaining awareness is slipping away, but he can still hear Paz’s panic.

“Din? Din, hey! Wake up!  _ Gar hut’uun,  _ I can’t believe you!  _ Din!” _

~*~

_ “What the fuck happened?”  _ Cara?

_ “We have to get him warmed up.”  _ Paz.

_ “You don’t say.” _

Din can hardly keep track of his thoughts, let alone who’s talking. He’s being lifted, taken somewhere.

_ “Buir!”  _ Oh stars, Grogu can’t see him like this. It will destroy the kid.

_ “Hush little one. It’s going to be okay.” _

_ Dank farrick.  _ Din can’t die in front of his  _ ad’ika.  _ Someone get him out of here. Don’t let him see.

_ “You better not die on me, Mando.”  _ Is Cara talking to him? He can’t open his eyes, let alone his mouth. He needs to. He needs to tell her to take Grogu away. Don’t let him see.

_ “Take off your clothes.”  _

_ “What?” _

_ “You heard me.” _

It’s warm. When had it gotten warm?

_ “Come on, Djarin. Wake up. Gedet’ye.” _

Din drifts among the voices. His skin crawls with a sense of unease, but he can’t remember why. He just had it, too. Why is he so anxious? What’s gone wrong? The thoughts slip through his fingers like sand and he decides it’s not his problem. He’s cold, and unconsciousness calls his name. He slips away, and the voices fade to nothing.

Din wakes up some undetermined amount of time later and he  _ hurts.  _ He’s on fire, his skin is burning, he’s sure of it. He tries to move away but something is holding him down.

“Din’ika, be still.”

_ Paz. _

Din stops, taking a moment to process. He’s pressed against a warm chest, strong arms across his back, and hands pinned under hot arms. Why—? Oh. Hoth. He got hypothermia. Now he’s in the bunk in the Crest. Cara must have gotten to them in time.

“Stars, it's hot.” He says, trying to ignore the pain and the fact they’re both clad only in their helmets and briefs. As if his body is mocking him, a chill races up his spine. Din shudders and Paz’s arms tighten their hold around him. He bites his tongue against the number of pained noises threatening to leave his mouth. He wishes he were still asleep.

Instead he drifts in limbo, too cold to think beyond the burning of his skin. His bones rattle with the cold, and all of his muscles ache because of it. Deliriously, he wishes his helmet weren’t in the way so he could bury his face in the crook of Paz’s neck.

All at once the memories of what he said under the snow come back to him and his eyes shoot open. He may as well have confessed his love, especially ending with a Keldabe kiss. What was he thinking?!  _ Haar’chak.  _

He must have some tell because Paz sighs, arms shifting but not letting go. One of his hands drifts up Din’s back to rest between his shoulder blades, the other at the dip above his tailbone.

“Did you mean it? What you said?”

Din contemplates lying, but it would serve no purpose. “Yes.” He says simply.

“Good.”

Good? What does he mean ‘good?’ Why doesn’t he sound upset? He should be upset. He should be tense beneath Din, awkwardly holding him because he’s disgusted. What kind of fool falls for the man who hated him? Din doesn’t say any of that, though. All he can get out is a small, “what?”

“Are you attracted to me, Djarin?” Paz asks bluntly.

Din nods.

“Good. I’m attracted to you as well.” He says it so easily that Din can’t help but believe him.

“You are? Since when?” Din asks, lifting his head so he can look at Paz’s visor directly.

“Since we swore the Creed and you stood before the Covert in your new beskar. You looked like a true  _ Mando’ade _ , a  _ beroya. _ ”

Din gapes. Paz has felt this way for  _ years  _ and instead of doing anything about it, they’d just made each other miserable. “You—”

Paz nods.

Din sighs, hanging his head. Paz’s arms are still scalding bars of heat across his chilled back. It feels nice. “We are cowards.”

Paz laughs, the sound of it bubbling from deep in his chest and shaking Din where he lays upon it. “Indeed we are. The Armorer would be disappointed in us.”

Din pulls his hands from where they are trapped under Paz’s arms. They’re still red and chilled, but they’re not numb anymore, and he uses them to pull Paz’s helm against his. 

“Stay with me?” He asks, hopeful. “Help me find the Jedi?”

“I think I’d be okay with that.” Paz says, smile in his voice.

Pretty soon Cara will be down to check on them and hand over a fussy Grogu, but right now Din just sighs. Paz’s embrace is warm and secure, and he has no intention of leaving it until all of his skin has returned to a normal temperature, and maybe not even then. He and Paz have some lost time to make up for.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a Translations-  
> jahaatir = Lies/Lair  
> Ni ceta = Groveling apology. Rare  
> Gar mirsh solus = You're an idiot (lit. Your braincell must be lonely)  
> Gar hut'uun = You coward! (Worst insult possible)  
> Buir = Parent/Father/Mother  
> ad'ika = young child  
> Gedet'ye = please  
> Haar'chak = Dammit  
> Mando'ade = children of Mandalore  
> Beroya = bounty hunter
> 
> Not my best work, but I'm trying to finish a whole bunch of WIPs before the year ends. I thought it was a good time to revisit these two before the final episode of season two airs in just a couple days. Leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!


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